


Walking On Sunshine

by chaosmanor



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Gen, Imaginary Friends, Office, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-23
Updated: 2005-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My job is very boring, I'm an office clerk..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking On Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crumblingwalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumblingwalls/gifts).



> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

Clock-watching was part of life, the tiny little clock at the bottom of the screen moved so slowly, inching through the day, clicking over his life, at least until he was free to go home again, where his real life was.

4 pm. 4.22. 4.38. A phone call, someone asking a question they could have answered themselves by looking at the guide. At least it killed ten minutes, explaining to the idiot in the Washington office the exact criteria for dispensing a Federal development grant.

4.52. It was nearly over. It was too soon to shut the pc down, but he could justify logging out of the system database.

4.57. It was over, or almost. He turned the pc off, turned off the screen, switched on his voice mail. A minute to return all the day’s files to the admin clerk, the only person in the office with a duller job than Viggo’s.

5.00pm, time to put on his corduroy jacket, his compromise with his boss on the subject of office wear. The elevators were slow, everyone else in the building was leaving work too, and the one he got into was crowded. Good thing he didn’t have Orlando with him, he would never have fitted in. Still, Orlando loved to take the stairs, and it was a good thing since a panther really wasn’t suitable office elevator attire either.

He didn’t bother with waiting for a bus, he only lived a mile away from the office, and he’d never been so fit since he acquired a big cat that needed to be walked and walked everyday.

He stopped off at the supermarket; something for dinner, and for breakfast. He really should take lunch to work too, but it was an economy he really didn’t want to make.

He strode through the late afternoon crowds of fellow office workers, overtaking the women in their ridiculous shoes and the men working on heart attacks, past the queues at the bus stops, the people pouring into subway stations.

Orlando didn’t like the train either.

 

Seventeen minutes to get to the front door of his apartment block, stop to say hello to the mad old woman on the second floor, up the stairs, key in the lock.

He dumped his jacket on the couch, kicked his shoes off and called out, “Orlando? You awake?”

There was no answer, but he knew where Orlando would be.

There he was, stretched out on the bed, mostly asleep still, opening sleepy eyes, yawning and licking his lips.

Viggo knelt down on the bed beside him, stroked his belly slowly, sliding fingers over ribs beneath sleek black fur, making Orlando stretch out further and make a contented growl in his throat.

“Had a good day?” Viggo asked, knowing full well exactly what Orlando had spent the day doing.

“Thought so,” he said, rubbing the spot under Orlando’s chin that made him melt. “You had a nap, scratched some furniture, had another nap, gathered up the strength to have a really big sleep, right?”

Orlando rolled over, arching his back, taking up all the bed with languorous ease, digging claws into the bed head, and Viggo was filled once again with awe that such a beautiful creature chose to live with him.

“Let me get changed, and we’ll go for a run,” Viggo said, rolling off the bed and beginning to unbutton his plain white work shirt.

It only took a couple of minutes to dump the hated work clothes on the bathroom floor and pull on sweats, then he slipped Orlando’s leash into the clip on his collar, and his cat was a sudden bundle of restless energy, desperate to get out of the apartment and burn off some of the infinite supply of energy he had.

They ran down the stairs, past the neighbours who were just coming home from work and out onto the pavement. This was what Viggo lived for, the moment when he and Orlando took off, his cat’s lopes matching his own strides exactly, the imaginary leash curled around his fingers in a gesture that no one understood except him.

Tomorrow he’d take his imaginary panther into work with him, just for a treat. Orlando would sleep quietly under his desk and Viggo could take his shoes off out of sight and nudge Orlando’s ribs and no one would know.


End file.
